


What is Love

by frankiesin



Series: discontinued works [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, In Universe, oc fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Nations aren’t the only ones who have human forms. Some capital cities—and states—get to work alongside their countries to preserve history.(old ass fic)





	What is Love

 

**Chapter 1**

A small blonde girl crouched behind a bush, hoping to avoid the sights of the two young brown-haired boys conversing not far away. Her name was Katarina, and she was an orphan. Or so she thought. She did not know if she had a family, she only knew that her name was Katarina and that she was "special."  


Out of nowhere, an arrow flew through the air and hit the boy with blue eyes in the head. Strangely, he did not die from what would be a fatal hit to any mortal human, but instead looked merely dizzy. The other boy's green eyes narrowed dangerously and he spun around in the direction that the arrow had come from. Standing at the top of the hill was an albino boy, laughing. The green eyed boy yelled at the albino to leave them alone.  


Katarina watched the albino with strong curiosity. She felt drawn to him, for reasons she herself didn't know. So, making sure the two other boys weren't watching her, Katarina slipped out of the bush and followed the albino back to a large castle. There, she called out to him.  


"Hallo!" The albino whipped his head around, not expecting Katarina to have been following him. Smirking, he leaned over Katarina. "Hallo. I am the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt. Who are you?"  


"Katarina… I don't have any other name…"  


"You can have mine. Then you might be as awesome as me!" Gilbert paused. "Well, you can't be as awesome as me, because I am the most awesome, but you could still try!"  


"So… I can come home with you?" Katarina pointed to the castle behind Gilbert, and he nodded. "And can I be your sister?"  


"Pffft, sure. I already have a little brother. He's not awesome like me though, just to warn you…"   


"Ok." The two turned and entered the castle. Gilbert gave Katarina the room next to his, and the girl found herself able to be satisfied by exploring the large, extravagant room she had been given.  


~~~~~~  


An older Katarina straightened out her now long hair, combing it out before putting in a dark blue ribbon to match her dress. The door to her bedroom swung open to reveal her self-proclaimed awesome housemate. Katarina sighed, "Beilschmidt… how many times do I have to tell you? Knock before you come in!"  


"Yeah, yeah. Stop being so unawesome. Anyway, I've got something to tell you." Katarina snorted. "I've been waiting for an explanation of the new dress. You never do anything for anyone. What's so amazing?"  


"I'm Prussia! And because I'm so awesome, I've got my own color. You're wearing it." Gilbert crossed his arms and grinned at Katarina, who was looking at the albino strangely. Katarina blinked. "Wait, did you say Prussia? As in Königreich Prueßen?"  


"Ja. I'm the human representation of Prussia, and you're my capital, Berlin." Gilbert… no, Prussia, pointed at Katarina, who just stood there, red eyes wide and speechless. 'How could it be possible for a human to be a country… or a city for that matter?' Katarina looked back at her reflection in the mirror. A girl who looked to be about the age of ten looked back at her, wearing a Prussian blue gown, her golden blonde hair up in a bow. 'How could I be Berlin? I'm a girl, to start off with, and I'm so young. Besides, what'll happen when I die?'  


"You won't die, Kat. You were born to be Berlin, I was born to be the awesome Prussia, and all the others were born to be their nations as well." Katarina's eyes widened. "Did I say that out loud?"  


Prussia nodded. "So, now that you know who you are, wanna go meet some less awesome nations? Including my Brüder, Holy Roman Empire?"  


"Sure."  


~~~~~  


"BEILSCHMIDT! Wo der Hölle bist du?!" Katarina ran through the woods, scanning for any sight of the familiar albino man. Katarina's hair had been pulled back, and she was wearing one of Prussia's uniforms in order to make the impression of her being male. Why she was disguising herself? Russians. They had invaded, and because Katarina refused to stay helplessly behind, Prussia had dressed her up as a man and let her be part of the attack. The two had become separated, and thus the reason for Berlin's panic.  


Berlin kept running, slashing through the undergrowth. Millions of thoughts were running through her head, some of them reaching her lips and spilling out.  


"Hello. Who are you?" Berlin spun around, gripping the sword tightly. A girl with white-blonde hair wearing a pale lavender scarf and tan trench coat stepped out of a bush. Her violet eyes were large and curious, and a small smile was on her face. "I'm Moskva."  


"B-Berlin. Who do you side with?" Berlin narrowed her eyes at the girl. 'Moskva's accent sounds strange. She's not from here…' Moskva flinched back. "Thanks. Ever heard of keeping your mouth shut?"  


"Sorry, Miss Moskva. I didn't mean to say that out loud. Sometimes what I'm thinking just comes out… Whenever Pru--" 'Wait. Don't say anything. You don't know if she's an ally or not.' Katarina laughed. "Never mind that. Anyway, where are you from?"  


"Mother Russia. Do you wish to become one?" Moskva extended her hand to Berlin, who stepped back as the Russian began laughing. "Koru, koru, koru… don't be afraid. Everyone will be one with Master Russia Braginski anyway."  


"So… Russia is a human too?" Moskva nodded. Katarina sighed and rubbed her nose. "Is every nation personified as a human?!"  


"Well… I think so. Every nation I've met, and their chosen capital, has a human to represent them. I was born as Moskva, and if Russia and Moskva die, then Master Braginski and I will go down with them. That's how it is, I guess." Moskva shrugged, then turned to the blonde girl dressed as a man. The Russian held out her hand. "Friends?"  


"Uh… Moskva… there is something that I should tell you first." Moskva raised an eyebrow tentatively. "I'm Berlin, capital of Königreich Prueßen, and housemate of Prussia himself. In other words, we should be enemies. Not friends."  


"Who cares what we should be! We are whoever we wish to be, Berlin! No one can tell us if we are right or wrong. We are in charge of our choices, our lives, our everything." Moskva waved her arm dramatically, violet eyes glowing as she turned towards the Prussian. "So, I ask again, shall we be friends?"  


Berlin looked at Moskva's extended hand curiously. Slowly she extended her own, and the two shook. Katarina smiled softly at the Russian. "Friends. Got it."  


"We will always be friends. And if you forget that, I will end you. If I forget it, you may do to me whatever you wish."  


"Deal."  


~~~~  


'If I forget it you may do to me whatever you wish.' If only she still remembered that…' Centuries had past, countries had formed and reformed, and now Berlin was watching as Germany and Russia made an alliance. The German woman stared across the room at her old friend. 'Moskva… I can't even recognize you anymore… your eyes, they were once filled with hope and wonder. Now… I feel as though you are plotting on how to make my death and bloody as possible. And that smirk… you look evil. Demonic. You aren't Moskva anymore. You're…  


'Moscow.'

 

* * *

**Chapter 2**

I was never for the war, to be honest. I acted as though I wanted it to happen, but ever since that day, I regretted becoming part of the United States of America. I think the only reason that I didn't crack was because of Rico. Rico has saved me from everything, despite thinking he hasn't.  


December 7, 1941. America's boss declared that to be a day to live in infamy. I couldn't agree more with that statement. That was the day that Japan bombed me. That was the day I earned my most memorable scar.  


The bombing itself was not the worst part. I remembered the searing pain on my shoulder, my grimacing as I tried to hide the pain from Rico, who was at my house that day.   


"Hawaii…?"  


"I'm fine." Puerto Rico flinched back, and I immediately regretted my harsh tone. I sighed, slowly removing my hand from my shoulder and peeling up the collar of my shirt to see just how bad the burn was. Rico peered over my shoulder. "That's… uh…"  


"Disturbing?" I attempted to smile at Rico, who, despite being around English speaking people often (read: my crazy, adopted family), still had some troubles remembering the language. I could sympathize with that, seeing as I had to be taught English when I first became a state.  


"Yeah. That." The Puerto Rican stared sadly down at the mark that the bombing had left on me. He had been the first to react to my injury, followed only by America and his boss, who both declared war on Japan, and, indirectly, the rest of the Axis Powers.  


**flashback (of dooooom. NOT.)**  


"Hawaii! Ez!" Puerto Rico's dark brown eyes widened in terror as I screamed out in pain, gripping the table so hard that my knuckles turned white. "Ezio, what happened? Oh no, please don't die! Ezio! Ezio!"  


"I'm okay… I just… some part of my must have been attacked. Probably a harbor…" As I said that, the phone rang. I grabbed it. "H-hello?"  


"Hawaii?" America. Whatever had happened must have hit him too.  


"I've been hit. By something. I don't know where it is geographically, but it burned my shoulder."  


"Pearl Harbor. Japanese did it, the bastards." A pause. Crackling over the phone. "I should have seen it coming, too. Japan took his ambassador back yesterday. Dammit!"  


"Jones. Calm down. I'm fine, I had most of the ships out anyway. I'll be fine."  


"No you won't. Japan took it one step too far. I'm declaring war. My boss agrees with me." And then he hung up. Of course.  


**end flashback**  


"Why did he have to declare a fucking war because of that?!" I trust my head back, and ended up knocking Rico in the jaw. The Puerto Rican let out a small whimper of pain and rubbed where I had hit, touching his mouth to check for blood. My blue eyes widened as I realized what I had done. "Rico? Are you okay?"  


He nodded. "I'm fine."  


"Good. The last thing we need is for something to happen to your country…" My hand had somehow found its way to Rico's cheek, because I was now cupping his face in my hand and rubbing said cheek with my thumb.  


Oh. Shit.  


See, the problem here is that I like Puerto Rico. But he's male, and I am as well. It's just not right, but I can't help it. And it gets better. I've liked him almost since the first time we met.  


So I do the logical thing and jerk my hand away like I just touched fire. "Ah… sorry. I don't know what came over me… that was an accident… hehheh…"

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter 3**

Delaware was the oldest colony, and the oldest daughter. It made sense. Delaware was also the most sensible person in the family. Which was why America left his young daughter in charge whenever there was a battle. It was because she had common sense, and he had no other option.  


Today was no different. Or at least it started out that way. America had left his three daughters alone, with Delaware in charge, and it was raining. The weather was different, but then again, weather usually differs from day to day. New York was watching out the window as the rain hit the window panes, turning the world outside gray. The young girl breathed on the window, causing condensate, and wrote in the letters NY. For New York, of course.  


"Yorkie, what are you doing?" The little blonde girl spun around, one of her pigtails hitting the condensate letters. Her older sister, Delaware, stood in the doorway, holding baby Carolina. New York smiled, and pointed back to her now ruined letters. "I wrote on the window."  


Delaware's eyes widened in alarm. "With what????"  


"My finger…" New York noticed her sister's worried look. "Was I not supposed to do that?"  


"Oh… oh." Delaware laughed nervously. "That's okay. I thought you were writing with mud or something. That would have been bad."  


"Do you think Papa's uniform will get mud on it?"   


Delaware shrugged. "I don't know… probably. After all, it is raining, so the chances of there being mud on the battlefield are pretty high…"  


New York gasped as an idea lit her eyes up. "I know what we should do!"  


"Hm?"  


"We should go find Papa and watch him beat some Redcoats!" Delaware shook her head immediately. New York pouted slightly. "Aw, come on, Delly. It'll be fun! Watching the battle would be more fun than just sitting in here all day. This place is so boring."  


"We can't. Dad said not to leave while he's not here."  


"He's never here!"  


"Well I guess that means we can never leave."  


"You aren't any fun!"  


"I am fun! You just don't know fun when you see it."  


"Why do you always have to listen to the rules? You'll never get anything done, or do anything fun, or go anywhere if you don't break a rule!"  


"Yes, well, rules are there for a reason, New York. You'll understand when you get older."  


"You aren't much older than me!"  


"I'm much more mature and responsible, though, and that's what matters."  


"I'm going to get farther than you, and be more popular than you! I'm going to be known by every country! When people think of America, they'll think of Papa and me! No one will think of you because you didn't do anything!"  


"New York! That was rude!"  


"I don't care. You're being mean." With that, the young girl ran out of the house and into the rain. She heard Delaware call out her name as she ran, but New York ignored her, running through the cobbled streets, listening to the faint gunfire to figure out its location. The noises of battle became louder as New York came to an open, muddy field.  


"Catherine! New York! You can't just run off like that!" The little girl turned back and glared at her older sister, who grabbed her hand and attempted to drag New York back to the house. The girl just sat down in the mud and yanked her hand back to get her sister to let go. Delaware lurched forwards, but regained balance and crossed her arms. "Fine. Be stubborn. I guess I have to be responsible and watch over you."  


"What about Carolina?"  


"She's asleep." Delaware crouched down in the mud next to her sister. The two could see America and his army, but there was no red. New York looked back and forth across the field. "Where are the Redcoats?"  


"There! There's one!" Delaware pointed at a small red figure standing across from America. The figure came closer, so that his features were somewhat recognizable. New York's eyes widened in surprise. "It's Mr. England! But what's he doing here? Is he going to fight Papa?"  
Indeed it was England. He stopped a few feet away from America, seeming to not notice that the men behind Delaware and New York's father all were pointing their guns at the Englishman. The two stood, staring at each other for what seemed like forever. Delaware scrunched up her eyebrows. "Why aren't they doing anything?"  


Something changed in England's expression, and he lunged at America. Delaware covered her little sister's eyes, as well as closing hers tightly. 'We're going to be orphans! Mr. England's going to kill Dad, and then we'll have no one!'  


"Did Papa kill Mr. England?" Delaware blinked open her eyes at the sound of her sister's voice, and looked at the battlefield. America stood, without any weapon, and England's lay discarded at his side. The Briton was on his knees, with his hands covering his face. It looked almost as though he was…  


"Crying. He's not dead, he's crying." The words tumbled out of Delaware's mouth before she could stop them. New York turned her head to the side. "But why would Mr. England cry?"  
"Everyone cries, Yorkie."  


"No. I know that. But what made him cry?"  


"I don't know. Maybe he's sad that Dad is leaving him and becoming a country."  


"No, that's not it. It's something more. Delaware…" New York looked up at her sister, who looked back down, wondering what was going through her younger sister's mind. The blonde girl looked out at the battlefield, where only England and America now stood, and then back at her sister. "I know why Mr. England is crying. It's because he loves Papa."  


Delaware wanted to tell New York that she was being ridiculous, but when she looked out and saw America walking away, she couldn't. England was shaking, gripping the muddy ground, and wanting to call out to make the American turn around. 'What else could it be? England loves America like I love New York. If she were to leave, I'd probably be just as upset…'  


"Come on, Delly! We have to make it home before Papa! If we're not back, he'll get mad at us!" New York grabbed Delaware's dress and pulled her sister after her. Thoughts of love and England were left on the battlefield with the crying Briton.

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter 4**

Berlin stood next to Germany, straight and tall, looking up at the blonde man curiously.  She had switched hands from Prussia to his younger brother when Prussia disassembled as a nation. Berlin was now the capital of Germany, who was now under the rule of a man named Adolf Hitler.  


Mr. Hitler was a strange man in Berlin's eyes. He wanted everyone to have blonde hair and blue eyes, like Germany, yet the man had neither. When Berlin was still Prussia's, Hungary, another nation, had taught the blonde girl a word for people like that.  


Hypocrite.  


In Berlin's eyes, Germany's brown-haired boss was a hypocrite. She had told Gilbert, who was now living in Germany's house with his brother and former capital, what she saw, and was told not to say things like that out loud.  


"Sägst nicht, Berlin. Das ist immer besser."  


So Berlin kept her thoughts about the hypocritical man to herself. Thinking about it, during Mr. Hitler's speech (which the two blonde Germans were attending), Berlin reasoned that silence was probably good for multiple reasons. The most obvious one of these reasons was that if the representation of Germany's capital did not agree with the German leader, then there would be a lot of questions.  


Germany's boss was talking about what the country had to do to fix itself. One word kept reappearing in the speech: Jüden. Jews. Their boss talked of the Jüden as though they were the reason that Germany had lost the Great War and that the Jüden needed to be gotten rid of.  


Berlin didn't understand. So she nudged Germany and asked. "I don't get it," she whispered. "What did the Jews do?"  


"Wir sollen nicht jetzt sprechen." Germany hissed back, before turning his attention back to Hitler. Berlin shrugged. 'If all else fails, I'll ask Gilbert. Maybe he'll know…' The two listened to the rest of the speech in silence, and once they were permitted to leave, they did. Once the two blondes had returned to Germany's house, Berlin asked her question again. "Was haben die Jüden machen? Warum müssen wir sie gestoren?"  


"Berlin, the choices made by our boss are not to be questioned by us. He knows what he is doing." Berlin huffed and ran up the stairs, searching for a certain albino, who would probably be bored out of his mind.  


Again.  


Berlin knocked on the door leading into Prussia's room. "Gilbert? May I come in?"  


The door swung open, and behind it was a smirking Prussian. Good, he's not pissed off or anything. Berlin smiled back and entered Prussia's room, sinking onto the bed. She fingered through her golden hair, undoing the large braid at the back of her head. The blonde shook her hair out, the short strand in the front falling into her face again. "Better."  


"You obviously didn't just interrupt my awesome to take your hair out. Continue." Prussia leaned up against the wall, one eyebrow curving upward. Berlin exhaled slowly. "I don't get it."  


"Get what?"  


"The whole Jewish thing. What did they do? Why do they have to be killed?"  


"Gott… I wish I knew. West won't explain it, and going to the boss is out of the question."   


"From what I can tell, he just hates them because they aren't what he considers to be Deutsch. But he's not that either! His hair isn't blonde, his eyes are far from blue! That hypocritical Saukerl! He declares himself the leader and yet, if someone else was in charge, he'd be shipped off with the rest of them!"  


"Wow. Pissed off a bit, ja?" Prussia laughed nervously. Berlin nodded, her mind drifting off. 'I don't care what people say. We are friends, no matter what happens. Differences mean nothing, after all, if everyone was the same, people would never get anywhere. Unless we were all Russian, but that's another story…' Moskva laughed, violet eyes sparking.' Berlin wished Moskva was here. The Russian girl, with her way of thinking, would have been able to have made sense of the Jewish situation.  


Gott Verdammt. Why the hell was thinking of Moskva making Berlin's chest hurt? Her heart, to be specific. Yes, Berlin missed her friend, but she had others. It wasn't as though Moskva was dead or something.  


'Something's wrong with me. I need to just forget about Moskva for a bit, and focus on the present. I still have Prussia. He's not as bad as everyone thinks he is. Or maybe that's because I know he real Gilbert Beilschmidt. Who knows?'


End file.
